Reclaiming My Queen
by DemonClowSorceress
Summary: Vague prequel to "The Elusive Third Path" but can be read alone. Keller reappears, and his first taunt to Neal is to kidnap someone close to him. Will Neal beat Keller at his own twisted game and save her? K plus for some language.


**Reclaiming My Queen**

**By: DemonClowSorceress**

Summery: Keller reappears, and his first taunt to Neal is to kidnap someone close to him. Will Neal beat Keller at his own twisted game and save her?

**_White Collar _**isn't mine.

* * *

><p>If you asked Neal Caffrey three years ago what he thought about Sara Ellis, you would've heard two things.<p>

One would be the by-now stale denial that Neal had, in fact, stolen the Raphael insured by her company (I mean, c'mon, it's Neal Caffrey. Don't need a degree to figure out he stole it or at least knows who did). The second would've been his hope that she'd found another thief to harass and leave him the hell alone.

But after she had offered to help solve the mystery of Kate's death, the music box, and what Vincent Adler wanted from it, Neal's opinion of the insurance investigator had changed greatly. She was witty, she was brave, and she wasn't afraid of coloring outside the legal lines. She was willing to stick it out to help him find closure for his ex-girlfriend's death. And she was really hot, too. Not to mention she was a world-class kisser.

Then they began seeing each other. Then they slept together. They both lived in Neal's rooms briefly, but the happiness was short-lived when Sara discovered his secret treasure-cam. Then she was gone.

If you asked Neal Caffrey what he thought about Sara Ellis now, he'd admit that he actually liked the woman. A little.

* * *

><p>Peter and Neal were having a good-natured argument about the legality of pretending to be a U.S. Marshall versus pretending to be a U.S. Secret Service agent (which Neal was winning, unsurprisingly) when Diana Barrigan walked in. "Boss, there's a call on line two," she said.<p>

"Okay, I'll take it in my office," he replied.

But she shook her head. "The guy wants to talk to Neal."

Neal looked at both agents, just as surprised as they were. Peter gave a shrug and silently nodded to the phone. Curious, Neal picked up the reciever and said, "Neal Caffrey."

_"I hear you're still looking for me."_

The con man's eyes narrowed in anger. "Keller," he said with an icy cordial tone. "Been a while." At those words the agents frantically scrambled to set up a trap-and-trace.

_"I do love being a free man. Thanks for that, by the way."_

"I didn't hire Raquelle to shoot you," Neal said, more for Peter's benefit than Keller's. "I doubt you called just to rub that in my face."

Keller chuckled. That sound alone made Neal go cold. _"Of course not, Caffrey. That's not very sporting. Especially when you're already losing the game."_

Neal looked at Peter, who was listening in on the call. His face tightened in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked slowly.

_"When are you going to learn, Caffrey?" _Keller snickered. _"I mean, first you lost your king the last time we played." _Peter's hand gripped the headset tightly as he recalled the kidnapping months ago. _"You just have a habit of losing your best pieces because you don't protect them enough."_

A horrible feeling began gnawing at Neal's heart. "Goddammit Keller, what have you done?"

Another cold chuckle. _"What kind of chess player would lose their queen so early in the game? I'm very disappointed, Caffrey."_

Neal's eyes widened in horror. His lungs collapsed, making him gasp for breath. Diana and Jones looked at Peter, who was already putting down the headset and dialing a number on his cell phone.

"She's got nothing to do with this," Neal said once he'd gotten himself under control.

Keller sighed. _"Caffrey, you're sounding like a lawman again. Remember, if you stop playing the game, she will die because of you."_

"Keller!" Neal shouted, but the call was cut short. The agent running the trace shook his head; not enough time. Neal slammed the phone down angrily and turned to Peter, who was likewise hanging up. The agent's face was tight and pale when he met Neal's eyes.

"El isn't answering."

* * *

><p>Hughes was already mobilizing the troops when Sara Ellis walked into the FBI. She quickly dodged and ducked around agents to head for Peter's office. Peter wasn't there, having gone back to his ransacked house to see if his wife had left any clues, but Neal was.<p>

When he looked up at her, Sara almost didn't recognize him. Gone was cool, savvy, charming con man Neal Caffrey. In his place was a very human, very scared, and guilt-ridden Neal who had the look of one who'd led his best friend to the electric chair.

"I heard what happened," she said, coming over to stand next to him by the office windows. She pushed back some of her red hair to tuck behind her ear. "Neal?"

He shook his head. "He's doing it again," he murmured, looking out to the chaos in the bullpen. "He's manipulating the FBI just how he wants them. This is what happened when he took Peter."

Sara gave a weak smile. "Got another ring to bargain with?" she joked. Neal didn't smile. "Okay, that was bad. But Neal, don't worry. You said he's a chess player, right? There has to be something you can do to catch him unawares."

"He's one of the best, Sara," Neal replied. "He sees clearly ten moves ahead when I'm just trying to guess fifteen ahead. And if I screw up, Elizabeth pays the price."

Not knowing another way to cheer him up, Sara took his hand in hers. "We'll find her, Neal." Scooting up beside him, she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. "We'll find her."

Neal felt like the worst person in the world. Elizabeth was in danger and it was all his fault. When Peter had been kidnapped, she'd been the one to kick his butt into gear and start working on saving her husband. Now, she was on the block and Peter wasn't going to be as allowable for side deals.

But what was Keller after? Revenge? He kidnapped the wife of the FBI agent he'd kidnapped to cover up his break out of prison, but they'd never found him after that. So that couldn't be it. Was he toying with Neal? Undoubtedly - Keller had a habit of taking or killing people close to Neal, and Elizabeth was one of the people closest to Neal who he'd call a real friend. Con men don't usually have a lot of real friends, so they treasured the ones they manage to keep. "God Sara, what am I going to do?" he moaned. "If anything happens to El - "

"Shhh, shhh." She straightened up and put her hands on his shoulders. "Neal, this is not your fault. You know Peter will turn Manhatten upside down until he finds Elizabeth."

A knock at the door made them turn around to see Peter, his face white and drawn. Neal's self-wallowing evaporated as he rushed over. "What's up? Anything new?"

"We searched my house. Nothing's missing except for some cash, and El's cell phone and PDA was left behind." The agent rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "So we can't track her with GPS."

"Keller wouldn't make that kind of mistake," Neal admitted. "But he'll call, Peter. He wants something. He always does."

Sara watched Peter and Neal start thinking aloud about how to track Keller, but she mostly watched Neal. There was a tenseness in his shoulders that worried her. He was wound up, and if he didn't have some down time soon, he was bound to snap.

First Kate was killed, then Mozzie got shot, Peter was kidnapped, and so had he, Peter, and Alex when Vincent Adler took them. And now Elizabeth had been kidnapped too.

The phone rang, startling all three of them. Peter's hand shot out and grabbed the reciever. "Burke." He listened for a few seconds, then held it out to Neal. "It's him."

Neal took the phone. "Keller."

_"Caffrey. Do you remember Marsailles?"_

"I've been in Marsailles a few times. Never with you." Neal wrote down **Marsailles **on a pad of legal paper on Peter's desk. "What about it?"

_"You stole something."_

"I stole a lot of things. Allegedly," Neal replied carefully.

_"This one was special. High-end job. You managed to get it all the way across the Atlantic before the museum noticed it was gone."_

Neal nodded in recollection. "That one." He scrawled down **Painting **and **Brooch**. "Why the interest?"

_"Do you want her back alive?"_

"Tell me what you want."

Keller sighed. _"I want the Raphael and the Panther's Eye brooch, Caffrey. I trust you still have them?" _Neal remained silent, conscious of how eagerly Sara and Peter were listening. _"Well, you'd better get them quick. I'll call back with further instructions."_

Neal hung up, his mind already thinking at lightspeed. The Raphael wasn't the problem. The problem was the brooch.

"Neal," Peter said slowly. "Do you have what he wants?"

The con man nodded. "Mostly. I need some time." He stuck out his leg. "And this off. I know, I know," he replied to Peter's look of _No frickin' way_. "But it's the only way I can get them. I put them somewhere safe with someone I trust implicitly. I can't go there with this on."

"No. You're not going anywhere alone," Peter said.

Sara stepped forward. "I'll keep an eye on him, Peter," she offered.

* * *

><p>She thought they would go to a warehouse, honestly. Someplace secret - maybe one of Mozzie's bizarrely named apartments (she'd betting on the one called Sunday, since it was Monday).<p>

She hadn't been expecting a posh address on Park Avenue. And she certainly hadn't expected the maid who answered to greet them with, "Master Neal, welcome. The lady is expecting you."

Sara gaped openly at Neal as the maid took their coats. "Master _Neal_?" she questioned, more about his lack of alias rather than the added title.

Neal gave her a boyish grin. "I learned a long time ago not to con this woman."

Woman. _The lady was expecting him._ For some reason, Sara felt a boil of jealousy burst in her stomach. Which was ridiculous. She and Neal were over. Done. Finished.

Another maid led Neal and Sara through the mansion (there really was no other way to describe it) and past a few museums' worth of priceless artwork. Sara recognized paintings she'd only seen in books, others supposedly lost during WWII, and some she'd never seen before. But for some reason, Neal didn't even glance at the gold mine hanging off the walls. His walk was purposeful, his intent clear. He wasn't here to scope for a heist, but to save a friend.

The lady was in the drawing room. She was a stately dame with short, tightly curled blonde hair, a pert nose, and beautiful smoke-gray eyes that made her appear like a well-aged nymph. The barest wrinkles lined her face, and she carried herself like royalty. A paintbrush was in her left hand, a paint tray in her right...and a perfect replica of the _Mona Lisa _in front of her on an easel.

"Ah, Neal Caffrey," she said. "And a guest. How nice." She put down her painting tools and came over to them, offering Neal her hand. "How are you, pet?"

Neal kissed her hand, the picture of chivalry. "I'm well," he admitted. "This is Sara Ellis, a...a friend," he hedged, still unsure of their current relationship. Sure, they'd been together for a while, but he was still a thief and she was still after his hide for that Raphael. Not to mention they'd recently broken up. "Sara, this is Clarisse Huntington. She's an old friend of mine."

The women shook hands, and Sara immediately felt like Clarisse was taking the opportunity to size her up. The older woman said, "I trust this is not a personal visit, Neal?"

He shook his head. "No, Clarisse. I need your help." The blue-eyed man ran a hand through his dark hair. "A friend of mine - his wife was kidnapped by Matthew Keller."

Her expression changed drastically from royal to raging. "Swine," she spat. Gray eyes darkened to stormclouds when she looked at him. "I assume he wants something?"

"Yes. The Panther's Eye brooch and - " Neal cast a guilty look at Sara, then coughed and added, "- and the Raphael that came with it."

Sara paid attention. Raphael - did he mean the one she testified that he had stolen? Was it here, in Mrs. Huntington's museum?

Clarisse nodded. "I see." She waved at the maid. "Emilia, bring the jewelry box from the study. And tell Frederick to assemble the packing materials for transporting the painting. Immediately."

"Yes, Madame Clarisse," said the maid with a curtsy.

The lady looked at Sara again. "Neal must trust you implicitly," she noted, "for him to bring you here."

"What makes you say that?" Sara asked without thinking. Neal's eyes dropped to the ground as if the Turkish rug was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen.

Clarisse smiled. "He never brings anyone here he doesn't trust with his life. I've only met his friend Mozzie a few times, and each time my stock of wine was diminished."

"I told him to send you some more to pay you back," Neal mumbled, still not looking up.

"Oh please, pet. I have more money than the Vatican. One or two bottles of Chateau Mouton Rothschild is nothing." She waved it off as if dismissing a parking ticket. "Ah, here is Emilia," she announced as the maid returned with a walnut jewelry box. "The Panther's Eye is a very unusual request, Neal. Why would Keller want it?"

"He's probably running out of money and thinks he can fence it."

"Then he is a fool as well as a murderer," Clarisse said. "The Raphael is understandable, but the Panther's Eye is too eye-catching. Anyone skilled in jewels can tell what it is."

And it certainly was a striking piece. An oval-cut Canary diamond set in a brooch, with the only tiny flaw being the thin black line through its center. The resulting gaze made Sara think she was actually staring into the eye of a great cat.

"At the end of this caper," Clarisse said as she placed the brooch in a velvet pouch and gave it to Neal, "I would, of course, like to have my property back."

Sara started. "Your property? I thought that..." She looked at Neal.

Clarisse chuckled. "Oh, did you think he stole it? Hardly. I lent those pieces to the museum, and when they balked at returning them to me, Neal here was gracious enough to bring them home." She turned back to her _Mona Lisa _replica. "Neal, I do hope you save your friend. I would like you and Sara to visit again. Preferably under less trying circumstances."

Neal said his thanks, pocketed the jewel, and led Sara out.

* * *

><p>Two hours later they were in the Bronx, awaiting Keller at the meet point. Peter was decidedly and understandably nervous about letting this whole thing go down. Neal's face was expressionless, staring over the waterfront. Sara watched both men and hoped the exchange would go on without a hitch.<p>

Peter's phone rang. Blocked number. He handed it to Neal, who answered. "Keller."

"_Give the Raphael and the brooch to Miss Ellis._"

There was no measurement cold enough to describe how much Neal's insides froze at those words. "You're not involving her," he snarled, earning a surprised look from both Peter and Sara. "I'll bring them over in exchange for Elizabeth."

"_If you want the Fed's wife alive, we do a halfway trade. You send your girl over with the valuables, and I'll walk the Fed's wife over with a gun trained on her skull._" Keller was colder than space. "_My man will verify that they're authentic. They'll exchange there, and then the Fed's wife can leave with you._"

Neal lowered the phone from his ear and looked at Peter. "He wants Sara to do the exchange," he said.

"Then I'll do it," Sara said immediately. When both men started arguing, she shook her head. "We don't have any other options here. He wants me to walk the goods, I'll walk them to him."

"No, Sara," Neal started to say.

"Neal, she's my friend too." The look in her eyes left no room for argument.

So, four minutes later, she was walking over to the table set up between the two parties, carrying the Raphael and the brooch. She watched Keller walk over as well with his man, a gun jammed in Elizabeth's side as he used her for a human shield. Disgust threatened to contort her face into a scowl, but Sara kept her features professional.

"Miss Ellis," Keller said cordially. Even though he spoke with the same degree of suave charm as Neal, Sara had to prevent herself from shuddering. She'd only met him once before, but the difference between Keller and Neal was like night and day, blood and water. With Neal, her name always sounded like music. From Keller, she wanted to scrub the word to erase the disgust. "The items, if you please."

Sara realized she'd been silent for too long. "Of course," she said in a clipped tone, placing the painting and the brooch on the table. "There. Now let Elizabeth go."

"Ah-ah. First we verify that they're the real deal," said Keller. He gestured for his man to step forward.

"Neal's not like you," Sara said. "He doesn't play around with people's lives."

Keller chuckled. "Actually, that's exactly what he does. He plays with people as easily as he plays chess." Those eyes, cold and calculating, searched through hers. "I bet he's played you for a long time, Miss Ellis. Long enough to make you think he's a good man."

The woman's eyes were cold as ice when she met his gaze. "Neal is a good man. He's better than you, and he's smart enough to know when to stop playing around."

Keller's man looked up from his examination of the painting. Keller's eyebrow rose, and the other man gave a grunt. Sara glanced at them both, then looked at Elizabeth. The other woman was pale and shaky, but level-headed enough to know something was about to happen and get ready to react.

"Excellent," Keller replied. "Now, Mrs. Burke, if you'd please pick up the brooch for me. There's a good girl." Elizabeth reached over and took the jewel from the table. "That's good. Now please get the painting."

_Something's wrong, _thought Sara. Elizabeth's eyes cut to hers, and she could tell that the brunette thought the same thing. _Something's wrong. Keller's going to do something._

Then the gunshot blasted the ground a foot from the table.

* * *

><p>Neal looked, if possible, even worse than before as he sat slumped in the guest chair of Peter's office. Hollow blue eyes stared emptily out the window.<p>

Peter knew his friend was hurting bad. Holding Elizabeth to reassure himself that she was really all right, he knew that the person sitting in his office wasn't the real Neal Caffrey. It was whatever was left when Neal Caffrey was physically dragged away from the meet point.

Matthew Keller had escaped again, and he'd claimed another hostage. Sara.

The gunshot had been from one of theirs - an overeager rookie got high on the moment and accidentally squeezed off a shot. He'd already been thoroughly reprimanded by Hughes and demoted to desk jockey duty. They'd also recovered the brooch and the painting - when the shot went off, Elizabeth had already grabbed both items and taken off, fleet as a deer, straight for her husband's arms. Sara had used the extra three seconds she'd needed to escape in order to disrupt Keller's shot at Elizabeth's unprotected back. She'd blown her own escape to save Peter's wife.

Now she was gone, and Neal had all but become a husk of his former self.

Mozzie suddenly appeared in his sightline. With him was a woman Peter had never seen before. "Suit, Mrs. Suit," he said, "I'd like you to meet Miss Clarisse Huntington. She's a...mutual friend of mine and Neal's."

Looking at the regal dame, Peter's criminese-meter went off. Having met a lot of Neal's associates, he'd gotten pretty good at recognizing those who dabbled in the grayer shades of white-collar transactions. "It's always a pleasure to meet one of Neal's friends," he said calmly. "El, why don't you go with Mozzie and see how Neal's doing? Maybe bring him some coffee." He waited until his wife was out of earshot before addressing his guest. "Mrs. Huntington."

"Clarisse, please." She inclined her head in greeting. "Peter Burke. Neal speaks very highly of you."

"He's never spoken of you."

Her smile was as mysterious as it was amused, the smile of a queen to a worthy equal. She gave up nothing without a price. She also found him interesting. "I'm retired. I am happy with my life and what little I have saved from my adventures."

Peter decided to get to the point. "The brooch was real. The Raphael made them fidget. It wasn't the real one?"

"A forgery. Not many people can tell the difference."

"Keller had one of those people."

A soft explicative in another language escaped her lips. "An unfortunate complication." Her eyes darted up to his office, where Mozzie and Elizabeth were trying to tempt the con man out of his stupor with coffee. "He cares for that young lady. I could tell the instant he asked for the Raphael."

"Clarisse." Peter waited until she looked at him. "Neal is my friend and my partner. Sara is a good friend of ours. I assume, since you came to me, that you have an idea to get her back."

That queen's smile returned. "I do have an idea. However, I must ask about your qualms regarding its legality."

Having worked with Neal for a few years, Peter only hesitated for a few moments before asking, "Will it be illegal?"

"Not outrightly."

"Can my men accomplish it without breaking any laws?"

"Parts of it. Others will require acts of, shall we say, questionable legality." At his frown she added, "Do not worry. I have a person who can accomplish those acts."

Peter gave her a hard look. "Does Neal have to be involved?"

"Involving Neal," Clarisse said, "is the only way this whole plan works."

* * *

><p>Sara glared at Keller from behind the bars of her cell. "You won't be smiling soon," she said. "You didn't get the brooch or the painting. You have no money. As soon as Peter and Neal find you - "<p>

"Oh, I'm hoping they find me," Keller said. "In fact, I'm expecting it." His cold smile returned. And Sara was not at all heartened by the tone he had.

One of Keller's men showed up. "The phone's ready. GPS is disabled." He handed the killer a cell phone.

Keller held it out to Sara. "Here. Call him. Now. On speaker."

She held the phone in her hands, running a finger over the pad, before punching in Neal's number. It rang once, twice, then picked up. "_Hello?_"

He sounded awful. Defeated and broken. Swallowing hard, she put on a fake cheery tone as she said, "Hey Neal. You sound like crap."

"_Sara?_" That raw note of hope in his voice made him sound even worse, if that was possible.

"In the flesh." She looked up at her captors. "Keller's here. You're on speaker. Behave."

She heard Neal take a long, shuddering breath before speaking. "_Keller._"

"I'm not amused, Neal," Keller drawled. "A forgery? You should know better than to con me. Especially with Miss Ellis in such a precarious position." He reached over to stroke Sara's hair, a move that made her instinctively flinch away.

"_That was the painting I took from Marsailles, Keller. I believed it was real because I'd never seen the original before. Can you blame me?_" Neal sounded defeated, but angry as hell. "_The woman assured me it was the real one._"

Keller frowned, thrown for a second. "Woman? What woman?"

"_Clarisse Huntington._"

The name made Keller's face contort into a savage mask of rage that made Sara very afraid for her life. What had the stately dame done to Keller that made him that angry? _She must've conned him good. _"That old witch is still alive?" he joked, obviously forcing the levity.

"_And kicking. I've acquired the real painting from her, so if you want to try this again - _"

"And have Agent Burke swoop in with his army of lawmen? Pass."

Neal's tone changed to professional, smooth, and charming. In other words, his con man's voice. "_Peter has nothing to do with this. I'm still not wearing my anklet from our last interaction. If you want to meet, say the word. I can slip away from any tail he puts on me and meet you at your choice of location._"

Sara understood his play in that moment. By slipping Peter's tail and letting Keller pick the location, Neal was isolating the FBI from the meet. In effect, he was going in alone. For her.

Keller thought about it for a few minutes. "Fine. Meet me in the lobby of the Palace in an hour. I assume you can acquire the painting and the brooch from the lawmen. If not, don't bother showing up."

"_All right. Now let me talk to Sara._"

She took the offered phone and said, "Neal?"

The con man voice faded, replaced with the voice Sara knew was Neal's true self. "_Sara, I - I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to get hurt - _" His voice cracked, then teetered off. "_I'll get you back, I promise. Just stay safe, okay?_"

Sara tried to inject a cavalier note in her voice. "Please, Caffrey. I've been in way worse situations than this. But all the same, rushing wouldn't be a bad idea."

* * *

><p>5 Beekman. He was going back to the Palace. Back to where, months before, he'd led Keller on a wild-goose chase for the treasure's location and lost him to a sniper's shot to the shoulder.<p>

Neal stood in the lobby of the abandoned building, his blue eyes alert and tense. The painting was leaning against the wall next to him, and the brooch felt heavy in his pocket. Almost as heavy as the dread that weighted in his heart. If he screwed up, he and Sara were as good as dead. And if everything went according to plan, he'd be able to save Sara.

"Good to see you took me seriously, Neal," came Keller's voice from above.

Neal looked up to see the murderer leaning over the same banister Neal had once looked over to taunt Keller months ago. Beside him was Sara, looking pale and scared, with one of Keller's men and a gun jammed in her side. "Let her go, Keller," Neal said, surprised at how level his voice was.

"In time," replied Keller, shooing the man away. Sara was dragged out of sight. "First let me see the goods."

"Come down and see for yourself."

Keller likewise vanished. Presently he reappeared, a gun leveled at Neal's chest. "Forgive me for not believing you when you say you're alone."

"I am alone." And he was. Utilizing all his skills, Neal had ditched his anklet, evaded his tail, stolen back the Raphael and the brooch from the FBI, and made it all the way to the Palace without alerting anybody to his plan. He'd told nobody what he was doing - not Diana, not Jones, not Peter, not even Mozzie. He was completely, utterly alone. "Nobody knows I'm here."

Keller's eyes swept over Neal and rested on Neal's ankle. The ankle without an anklet. "Well I'll be damned," he sighed. "So it seems. But just to be safe, toss me your cell phone."

Very carefully Neal did that. Keller dropped it on the ground and stomped on it. "There. Now nobody can find you even if they tried."

"Just give me back Sara." Neal refused to beg to Keller, but he was coming pretty damn close to it. "Take the Raphael and the brooch; hell, disappear for all I care. Just let me take her home."

"First, let me see the art and the jewel."

The expert from before appeared, taking the brooch from Neal's hand and taking the painting from the wall. He laid them on the floor and examined them with a magnifying glass. "This is the real painting," he announced.

"Check the brooch," Keller ordered.

Neal watched the proceedings with careful eyes. He knew they were both real; hell, he had to be sure. With Sara's life on the line, he couldn't afford to take anybody's word on the authenticity. Just his own.

The expert nodded to Keller. The murdering SOB looked at Neal and grinned. "Well what d'you know? It's real."

"I told you," Neal replied. "Now where's Sara?"

"Someplace safe." The gun rose again to level right at Neal's chest. "Don't worry. You'll see her soon."

_He's going to kill me, _Neal thought, shock paralyzing the con man's body as he watched the trigger squeeze in slow motion.

"FBI! NOBODY MOVE!"

The shouts broke that spell. Feds in windbreakers with drawn guns raced into the building, spooking Keller into running. Neal quickly ran after him, knowing he was running to get Sara as a hostage. His heart pounded in his chest, marking time as he gained on Keller while racing up the floors of the Palace.

On the twelfth floor, Keller ambushed him. Neal was about to turn a corner when the fugitive clocked him over the head with the gun. Dropping to the ground in pain, Neal clutched his throbbing skull as Keller kicked him in the ribs, then stepped over his body and ran back downstairs. The con man swore a blue streak as he struggled to get back to his feet.

And that's when he heard it. Muffled thumps, and screams, coming from down the hallway. "Sara?" he called out, squinting past the pain. "Sara!"

"Neal!" came the screamed response. "Neal! In here!"

Walking was a bit of a challenge for Neal, but somehow he managed to stumble down the hallway to the door behind which he could hear Sara's shouts. Normally he would pick the lock, but with his head injury and what little rational thinking he had left, all he could do was take a page out of Peter's book. Ram his shoulder into the door until it broke open.

Sara raced into his arms, sobbing his name and holding on like he was a life preserver in the raging ocean. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tightly, squeezing his eyes shut and reassuring himself, _She's alive. She's safe, she's here, and she's all right._

"Argh!" The shout in Keller's voice made Neal and Sara turn around. Pushing the art recovery agent behind him, Neal crept towards the doorway and peeked around the corner.

Sara clutched his sleeve. "What is it?" she whispered.

"I see Keller," he murmured, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the open window. "He's down the hallway, by an open balcony window. Looks like he's arguing with someone."

"Who?"

"Can't tell." Whoever it was, Keller didn't look happy. Neal saw him raise the gun, take aim - and then Keller was tacked by a black form that wrestled him to the ground in record time. "Keller's down. Come on!"

As they were running up they saw Keller throw off his attacker and take off down the hallway. The black-clad figure glanced up, threw something inside the hallway, and took off as well. Neal quickly turned to follow Keller. But when he rounded the corner, the fugitive was gone. Again.

"Where did he go?" Sara asked, leaning against Neal as she caught her breath.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and shook his head, still on the lookout. But something told him that Keller was long gone. "Don't know. Gone." He looked down and saw her holding a small black card. "What's that?"

"Dunno. The other guy threw it before he ran." She tilted to let him see it - a plain black business card, glossy and expensive-looking, with only three words embossed on it. _Be in touch_. He took it and flipped it over. On the other side was a strange moniker - a smiling cat.

"Neal!" He and Sara turned to see Peter running down the hallway towards them, holstering his gun. "You okay? Where's Keller?"

"Gone," Neal said again. A quick lift, and the calling card was in his pocket before anyone realized it. "Can I take Sara home?"

Peter made a face. "We really need her statement."

"Neal, I'm fine," she assured the con man. Turning to Peter, she said, "Okay, who do I talk to?"

* * *

><p>Three hours, three different reprimands for going off-anklet, and a lot of paperwork later, Neal was tidying up his desk to leave. A shadow fell over the desk just as a cultured voice said, "I figured you would catch on."<p>

He glanced up at the woman with a trace of anger in his voice. "You pulled The Wonderland Maze on me and Keller."

"That's the only way I could forsee this situation going smoothly." Clarisse gave no hint of remorse in her reply. "How else could you explain the laxness of letting you leave without your anklet?"

"Risky."

"Necessary to retrieve Miss Ellis without losing the art. Which we accomplished."

"And I was the Alice," Neal grumbled. "Wasn't Keller supposed to get caught?"

The dame shrugged. "That is what happens when Feds are used instead of con men. Gaps exist where there should be none."

"Who was the Cheshire Cat?"

"Who do you think?"

His eyes widened. "She's in New York?"

"She was. Unfortunately, her talents were only needed for this con. She's already left." Clarisse reached into her pocket and pulled out the Panther's Eye brooch. "I will be taking back my property. Bring Sara around again. She is a fascinating woman and perhaps could be a valuable friend." With her queen's smile in place, Clarisse left the White Collar Division office with brooch and painting in hand.

Neal leaned back in his chair, slipping his hand into his pocket to pull out the black business card. Looking at the smiling cat, he flipped it over.

_Be in touch._ A promise, so it seemed. He hoped it would be soon.

"Neal?"

He covered the card. "Sara," he said with a smile. "You good to go?"

"Yeah, finished up a little while ago." She still looked a little battered and a bit pale, but no lasting damage had been done. She tried to give a smile, but it was painfully transparent. "I'm just going to catch a cab home..."

"I'll give you a lift," Neal said instantly, rising to his feet and grabbing his jacket.

She started to shake her head, but his look allowed for no argument. So she gave in to his request and let him guide her out of the FBI building.

Neal checked his pocket to make sure the card was still in there, then let it be. Helping Sara heal was his number-one priority. Mysteries were not high on his list tonight.

There was always tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Three years ago, Neal could have never imagined that this tough, prickly, sexy art recovery agent would ever become so important to him that he'd risk life, limb, and loot to save her.<p>

Then again, three years ago, he hadn't cared for her like he cared now.

So now, if you asked him how far he'd go for her, he would instantly reply, "As far as need be."


End file.
